


living in sin is the new thing

by audenrain



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5296532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audenrain/pseuds/audenrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wish you were at liberty to transgress the bounds of Pennsylvania. I would invite you after the fall to Albany to be witness to the final consummation."</p><p>in which Alexander finally gets his wish, and John does a whole lot more than just witness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	living in sin is the new thing

**Author's Note:**

> title from Britney Spears' "3".

Eliza Schuyler, unwed and untouched, could never have dreamed up a scene so debauched as this – but then, that was the Hamilton effect, wasn't it, that anyone who brushed sleeves with him would never be the same. She’d had fantasies, of course, like any young girl told that the touch of a man’s bare hand is a sin, like any young woman full of nameless, aimless hunger. Eliza Schuyler would not have even thought to want this, watching her husband get fucked, with his face between her thighs, his hands spread open wide upon her ribs, his dearest friend draped over his back, making him moan like _that._

Eliza Hamilton was a different woman, or possibly he’d only woken her up. Possibly this had been inside her all along, and Alexander had just set it loose. Probably he would break her heart: he had already broken Laurens’, she felt certain, even though neither of them spoke of it. They didn’t know how long she’d stood there in the doorway to the foyer, watching Alexander cradle Laurens’ head to his shoulder, seeing the way Laurens’ knuckles went white, gripping her husband’s sides. Alexander had pulled off Laurens’ gloves, held up his hands like precious things, blown warm breath over them to banish the chill, and Eliza had held herself perfectly still.

It didn’t matter what had happened before she had met him, under canvas tents, during the wartime mayhem. She wasn’t fool enough to think that she would ever have all of him. Few wives could say their husbands took even a passing interest in either their pleasure or their minds, and Alexander was concerned with both. Alexander told her all kinds of things most men would hide from her. He had mentioned, once, that Laurens had a wife of his own, but she had to assume the marriage had not been born of love. Evidently the poor girl, all the way over in England, was not so lucky as Eliza.

Laurens loved Alexander, though, and he was handsome in a sweet, boyish manner, with an easy smile and a tan, freckled complexion. It was no hardship to watch his lithe muscled frame spread over her husband, pressing into him as he had so many times pressed into her.

“Come on, Alexander, don’t neglect your lovely wife,” Laurens was saying, kneading at the muscles in Alexander’s arms, nipping at his ear. Alexander’s tongue drew a slow line along the seam of her; he breathed like he was savoring her scent. “If I know you, she already puts up with an awful lot.” Laurens' hazel eyes flickered up to meet hers, alight with a wicked gleam. “I bet he still falls asleep at his desk with candles burning, and lets the hot wax drip all over the wood.”

Here, Laurens snapped his hips forward, hard and at a new angle that made Alexander arch his back. His answering moan thrummed through his mouth to the core of her, so sudden, so bright that she heard her echo come out as a squeak. It should have been humiliating, but when he glanced up at her his eyes were lit only with delight. Her Alexander never mocked her.

“Yes,” Laurens said, his gaze still fixed upon her, as full of intensity and intent as Alexander’s ever was. “I think you’ll make her come twice before I let you even once. I bet she spoils you. I understand the urge,” he added, only to her, now, “but he needs a firm hand. Take my word for it.”

Eliza did. She even thought that Alexander rather liked it. She’d never seen him so overcome, and it could only be because he was allowing it, disavowing any notion of control. Maybe it was a kind of vacation from the chaos she could only imagine was his brain.

“You – you do have a way with him,” she managed to say, a little shakily. Laurens grinned at her over Alexander’s dark head, as if to say _you have no idea_. Alexander’s thumbs were stroking the skin of her belly, so very lightly, and Eliza was not ticklish but she couldn’t help but arch up into his touch, pressing herself more firmly to his mouth in the process. He groaned, then, as if he could feel the shock it sent through her, as if the sensations were his own, and Eliza felt as though there were holes in her lungs because she kept gasping but her head only grew lighter. He kept switching, swirling the point of his tongue in circles around that place she needed it most, then delving deep inside of her like he was trying to drink her in.

“ _Alexander_ ,” she hissed, grabbing handfuls of the sheets, tossing her head back against the pillows as if she could direct his tongue by frustration alone.

“Alexander, are you teasing the poor Mrs Hamilton?” Laurens asked, his voice dropping so low she could imagine the vibrations on Alexander’s spine. “Remember that you set the pace for the evening.” Alexander’s breath was serrated, growing shallower; his hands curled firmly around the curve of her ribs, as if he no longer had the control to hover as he had before.

Eliza looked down. Laurens was rocking into him, so slow and sinuous that she swore she could see the shift of each muscle under his skin. Alexander tilted his head a little, sideways and up so that he could meet her gaze, and his dark eyes were always intense but God, the _heat_ of them when he was like this – she thought it might scorch her. And then – the front of his teeth, right against her, hard and thrilling – he kept the edge from her skin but she let out a little shriek anyway – as much from alarm as from pleasure – and Laurens laughed, lovely and warm.

“He does love to use his mouth,” Laurens told her, and as he bit the shell of Alexander’s ear, he nudged loose a strand of hair from the already tousled ponytail. Alexander was watching her, silent, unreadable, hands shaking but tongue steady. He closed his mouth over her, sucking, like, like – and she _wailed_ with the searing ecstasy it brought. She could feel that familiar sensation coiling deep within her, and then Laurens thrust _hard_ , so hard she could feel the jolt of it as Alexander was pushed further into her, and with his mouth still sealed over her he groaned – like the sound was being torn from his chest –

Eliza threw back her head and gasped, gasped, gasped until she thought she might pass out.

Alexander gave her a moment, lowering his head to drop chaste little kisses on her inner thighs, and his jaw was wet with her, slicking her skin.

“Isn’t she lovely, John?” Alexander said, flicking his tongue over the crease between her hip and thigh, making all her muscles jump at once. He hadn’t spoken since Laurens had begun to stretch him, whereupon he – well, there was no getting around it – he had all but fallen to pieces. She wondered if her fingers could draw the same pleasure, if he might be willing to teach her.

Hearing his voice again grounded her, though, helped a little to stop her head from spinning. At last she gathered the strength to let go of the sheets, her hands aching a little, and she reached down to sink a hand into Alexander’s lovely hair. Laurens helped her, slipping the ribbon off and letting it fall loose over his shoulders. It gleamed in the candlelight, almost as bright as his eyes. Oh, God.

“Oh, yes,” Laurens said, quite belatedly now, and with his eyes on Alexander instead of her – not that Alexander could have known. “She is a beauty. Too good for you, I think. You’d better keep convincing her you’re worth the trouble.”

Alexander smiled up at her with his shining mouth, still wet. “Well, Eliza?” he asked, sliding a hand up to her breast to feel the way her heart hammered beneath it. “You cannot be satisfied yet, I’m sure.”

Eliza swept her hand across his brow, where it stuck a little with their shared sweat. The air was heavy, heady with musk. She knew he would taste of salt and of her, from his glistening lips to the space behind his teeth, and for a moment she wished she could kiss his sweet earnest face. But then he dipped his head, hair tumbling into his eyes, and he touched her with just the tip of his tongue. Her toes curled and her knee jerked and she urged him on. “Not quite, my love – I think you should redouble your efforts.”

Laurens was making little circles with his hips, not pulling out much or pressing in, and she could see Alexander trying to push back, until Laurens bit him on the shoulder for his trouble. It was a good, sharp bite that left a flush of pink, and it drew from Alexander the most undignified whine. She could hardly believe her husband – who spent most of his time straightening his spine, trying to seem taller and broader – had become this yielding creature, lapping at her with such eagerness to please. She could hardly believe she was seeing him like this, arching his back and canting his hips to be _taken_ like this.

“He’s fairly good at being quiet,” Laurens said. His voice was beginning to shake – at last the torturous pace he was keeping up seemed to be taking its toll. “Old habits die hard, you know, and tents aren’t exactly soundproof. But Alexander—” And he bit down on the curve where Alexander’s neck met his shoulder, sucking, looking as though he could devour him whole, until Alexander muttered _fuck_ against her entrance and then his tongue was inside her again, as if he could muffle the sounds of his pleasure by drowning himself in hers.

“Alexander,” Laurens said again, chiding, now. “We’re quite safe, here. You should sing for us, if you want. I know how well you can fall apart.”

Alexander seemed to choke, then, his eyes closing and his face flushing, and his tongue curled inside her. He loved praise, their Alexander – it always spurred him onwards, and apparently even in bed, because he shifted his head then and pressed the tip of his _nose_ to her. And with his mouth momentarily free, he punctuated Laurens’ next shallow little thrust with a helpless cry. He tried to stifle it against her; Eliza’s body bent like a drawn bow. Alexander swept his hands beneath her, along her spine, peeling the damp sheets away from her skin. And when at last he pulled back to catch his breath, Laurens chose this moment to drag his fingertips down Alexander’s sides to his hips, gripping, lifting: Eliza realized he was mimicking, waiting for Alexander to make a move before getting anything in return.

“Alexander,” Laurens rumbled, each syllable slow and thick. One of his hands had disappeared beneath them. Eliza could not see anything, but it made Alexander’s eyes fly open, and his hands clenched upon her thighs, spreading her legs wider. He knew Laurens’ game, then, and he threw himself into it with admirable fervor. He had put his mouth on her before, but never like _this_ – it had always been like a challenge to himself, to see how quickly he could make her melt into the sheets. She didn’t feel like a malleable thing just now. All her muscles were tensed, her feet braced upon the mattress as she pushed up into his face, and he was tilting his head to kiss her open-mouthed, with slow strokes of his tongue, the faintest graze of teeth on her outer lips. She didn’t feel melted at all: she felt solid, sure, worshipped. She felt her whole body singing.

“Would you like to do that to me, afterwards?” Laurens asked, dragging his teeth over a slowly-forming bruise on the side of Alexander’s neck, and _oh_ she wished she could see what was happening. She had to know how to pull that noise of utter desperation from him – he sounded so hoarse, as though Laurens was wrenching it out and it was so good it hurt.

Alexander was speaking, and the words were only _yes_ and _ah_ and their names, alternating, slurring together, but his tone was one of outright plea.

“You could suck me,” Laurens said, almost conversationally despite the way his voice trembled. “Or – you could eat me out, too—” And then Alexander did something – must have tightened himself because Laurens’ voice broke into a shout, and he slammed forward like an elastic that had finally snapped, and Alexander began to suck on her, concentrated, _intent_ , so impossibly good that her throat closed up and she could not seem to remember how to make any noise at all.

“You remember that, then,” Laurens went on, his voice so tight, his face pressed into Alexander’s neck. “You – ah, Alex, _Alex_ – God – you were so hungry for it—”

Alexander was making noises like dry sobs, one elbow propping him up on the mattress and the other arm groping blindly behind him until he could grip Laurens’ hair, tugging him closer, as if any of them could get closer than they already were.

“I love you,” Alexander choked out, and Laurens had been talking but he said it into Eliza’s core, and somehow she felt certain that it was for them both. She took hold of his hair, too, gathering the smooth length of it in one hand and holding him there, bucking against him until she had to shut her eyes against the blinding sweetness of his greedy mouth.

She had to give him a gentle push when it faded, because she was beginning to ache, oversensitive, and so he laid his cheek on her thigh and gave himself up to the rhythm of Lauren’s hips.

They were beautiful, her revolutionaries, sweat shimmering on their brows, their long hair tousled, their muscles straining beneath their golden skin.

“Yes _,_ John _, yes_ ,” Alexander was still saying, a meaningless refrain, over and over, as if he was praying, and he came like that, breathing in her scent and sighing out Laurens’ name. Laurens held Alexander there a moment, straightening his back until he was kneeling, and then he pulled out to wrap a hand around himself. He looked so striking, with a flush beneath his freckles that spread to where his hand was moving frantically. He was watching Alexander, head down, eyes on the narrow shoulders and dark fan of hair, so tense that every tendon on his throat stood out. The day Alexander stopped pulling people into his orbit and roping them into loving him – well, actually, she doubted he knew how to do anything else.

Laurens spent himself across Alexander’s back, keening, breathless, broken.

Slowly, then, Alexander sank down to the mattress, where he rolled onto his side and tilted his dazed face up towards Eliza wearing the most absurd smile. His eyes were glazed, a little over-bright, brimming with warmth.

“Oh,” he said, sounding scraped raw, and somehow still utterly besotted. “Hello.”

“Hello,” she replied, smiling back, and Laurens curled up on Alexander’s other side, face burying in his hair, cheek just brushing Eliza’s fingers where they were tangled up.

“A little late for pleasantries, I think,” Laurens remarked, a little sleepily. Alexander laughed, the sound cracked with joy – a rare thing these days. Eliza was halfway in love with Laurens too just for drawing it out of him. She tugged at their arms until they crawled up to join her at the pillows and she could finally kiss her Alexander’s lips, and then John’s, too, murmuring, _hello, hello_.


End file.
